


Billywigs and Bowtruckles

by Vive_grande



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence, Draco isn't entirely a little shit, F/M, Friends to Lovers, I am not a fan of AO3 formatting, I haven't written in years and it's about to show, JKR no longer has dominion over Draco malfoy, Ratings subject to change, Slow Burn, blame this on dracotok, especially in later years, no beta reading- we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vive_grande/pseuds/Vive_grande
Summary: Querencia: a place from which one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.What if someone showed Draco a better way?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, others likely to be added
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for the whole of the work: chapters may be far between due to university. This work is not yet abandoned.

No one tells you you’ll have to fight a war when you’re only seventeen - it’s not exactly something anyone could have seen coming. We were told He was gone, and there was no chance of him coming back; that didn’t stop the fear of his name though, even eleven years later. I guess it’s a good thing people never stopped fearing him, it made his return all that more real. The Ministry didn’t care, though, it took them another year to finally accept the man they feared more than anything was back. 

And they don’t tell you that no matter how hard you try, no matter what you do, those you love will die right in front of you. We lost fifty-six people that night, many of them my friends. The only thing you want to do after narrowly escaping death is holding your friends close. Nothing can compare to the pain and emptiness you feel in your gut when you round the corner and see them on a stretcher, eyes closed and skin cold. It was all I could do to keep from vomiting, hoping I wouldn’t see him on one too. No, I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I did, not after losing everything and everyone. I looked around, hoping on everything I wouldn’t see his messy blond hair. 

_“Draco!”_

* * *

I had been waiting for my Hogwarts acceptance letter for months, ever since I turned eleven in January. Mom said they came during the summer, and those months spent waiting were agonizing. I always knew I would go to Hogwarts, and had grown up hearing the stories my parents would tell. I'm pretty certain I know all the secret passageways already, and I've yet to step on Hogwarts grounds. We went to Hogsmeade once a couple of years ago; Dad had insisted a shop in town had the only palatable pumpkin pasties outside of the Hogwarts Express. 

“Callie! Come in here for a minute!” a soft voice called from the living room, “I think you’ll want to see this!”

“What is it, Mom?” I call back, not wanting to leave my nest of pillows and the latest book I had found on Quidditch. I brush a stray strand of brown hair back into the braid it had fallen from when the sudden, ear-piercing scream of a very surly owl quickly answers my question. 

“Something tells me it’s for you,” Dad says, pointing to the owl at the windowsill as I walk into the room. “I think you better open the window and let him in before he breaks the glass.” 

Sure enough, the owl rapped his beak against the glass and let out another scream, eager for someone to take the letter he was carrying. Messenger owls never were one for sticking around - the letter!

“Do you think…” My green eyes dart between my parents and the owl still perched on the windowsill. I don’t want to finish the sentence, afraid to get my hopes up. It could just as well be another boring letter from Aunt Tanya, detailing her latest trip to another remote Billywig sanctuary. 

“Only one way to find out Pumpkin,” Dad replies, opening the window and removing the letter from the owl’s beak. With a small squawk and a ruffle of his feathers, the owl is gone. “Here you go.”

I pale and carefully take the letter, my hands trembling slightly. The emerald green ink tells me everything before I’ve even opened it.

_Ms. C. Donaghue_

_The Bedroom at the End of the Hall,_

_425 West Gable Street_

_Warminster_

_Wiltshire_

I crack the scarlet seal and pull the letter from the inside, the Hogwarts crest solidly confirming my hopes. My parents beam at me as I read the letter, my smile growing by the minute. 

“We have to go to Diagon Alley! I don’t want to miss anything!” I yell, rushing for my cloak and boots in the hallway closet. 

“Woah there, pumpkin! There’s plenty of time to get your supplies. Let me see the list.” Mom says, halting me before I reach the hall. I hand her the letter, rocking on my feet, anxious to get going. “Seems like all the standard things, nothing’s changed. We shouldn’t have any trouble getting anything. Weylan, do you think you can tear yourself away from the dirigible plums for a day and come with us tomorrow?” 

Dad’s latest obsession is trying to write another book on less-popular plants in the wizarding world, hoping it’ll become a textbook for herbology studies. Last month’s obsession was seeing if it was possible to make broomsticks dance on their own. 

“I think they’ll be okay for a day,” Dad jokes, stretching as he rises from the overstuffed armchair.“I can set them up for the night, so they’ll be good for tomorrow with no one watching them. I haven’t seen any flesh-eating slugs for a couple of weeks; I think that slug repellant I got from Tabitha Alves did the trick.” 

“Tomorrow?! Why can’t we go today?” I cry, not wanting to waste another second standing around. Don’t they understand all the good cauldrons will surely be gone by tomorrow? And all the dragon hide gloves left won’t fit. “No, we have to go today. Everything will be gone by tomorrow!”

“Callie, I can assure you nothing will be gone by tomorrow. It’s still early; I doubt very many other students have gotten their letters yet. We can go tomorrow and make a day of it.”

“But-,” I interrupt, adamant we go today.

“Listen to your mother, Callie. Plus, it’s much too late to go now. Almost everything will have closed for the night by the time we got there.” Dad heads to the kitchen, no doubt to put the kettle on. “Does anyone want some tea? I’m feeling cinnamon.” 

Both my mother and I decline, as Dad has a habit of turning even the sweetest of teas bitter. We still have no idea how he manages it. Mom sets the letter of supplies on the table and ushers me into the kitchen. 

“I think it’s just about time for dinner. What should we have?”

  
  
  



	2. Diagon Alley

I wake early the next morning, eager to get a start on the day. There are so many things I need to get, I don’t know how we’ll find it all. Sitting at the table eating an egg, I reread the supply list for the hundredth time. Work robes, a hat, gloves, and a cloak, eight textbooks, and the typical miscellaneous equipment. Of course, I’ll need a wand - and that’s the part I’m most excited about. Both my parents have told me about their wand choosing them, and I can’t wait to do it myself. I wish I could bring my broom; I’ve always wanted to try out for my house team. 

My house! I wonder where I'll get sorted. Mum was a Ravenclaw and Dad was a Hufflepuff, so it wouldn’t surprise me if I ended up in either of them. They’ve talked briefly of all the houses, and it seems like any of them might be a good fit. Needless to say, it’s all up to the Sorting Hat. It almost makes me nervous - the idea of a hat rummaging around in my head, deciding where to place me. Will it hurt? I can’t imagine they would keep doing it if it hurt, then again Skelegrow hurts, and St. Mungos still uses it. 

Finishing his coffee and setting down The Daily Prophet, Dad turns to me.

“Well Pumpkin, want to go grab your mom from the garden and get ready to go?”

“Yes!” I pull on my boots and run to the garden, slipping on the dew-damp grass. The cool air shakes any semblance of sleep away, and I unlock the gate to the garden. I duck as a green blur shoots over my head, screaming as it shoots over the garden wall. The gnomes must be back, then. 

“Mom!” I call, ducking again as another gnome goes flying. I could’ve sworn this one made a face at me while it flew by. “Mom! Dad said he is ready to leave. Are you coming?” 

“What was that honey?” Mom pops up from behind the patch of pumpkins, holding a gnome by his foot. “Do you want to toss this one?”

I take the gnome and swing him around my head a few times, then let him sail over the northwest wall, dripping mud and water as he sails. 

“Dad said it is time to leave for Diagon Alley,” I say, wiping my muddy hands on my trousers. “Are you coming?”

“Oh yes! I want to be there for your wand choosing. Go get your jacket, I’ll be up in just a minute.” I turn back for the house as she pulls her wand out from her pocket and turns the scarecrow into a jarvey look-a-like. “Hopefully that scares them off while we’re gone. Run along now, don’t want to keep your dad waiting. You know how he gets.” 

We all gather in front of the living room fireplace, ready for the Floo journey to Diagon Alley. Dad takes the pot of floo powder from the mantle and turns to me.

"Remember to speak very clearly and keep your eyes shut and elbows in. Don’t want you coming out the wrong fireplace.” 

I take a handful of the green powder and toss it into the fire. The red flames instantly turn emerald, and I step in. 

“Leaky Cauldron!” I shout, closing my eyes. 

I don’t open them until I’m standing in the large fireplace in the pub and step out to wait for my parents. I wipe the soot from my face and hair and sit down at a table. Mom arrives first, and Dad a minute later. They dust the ash off each other and we head for the street, passing a strange man in a turban who appears to be muttering to himself. 

“Where should we start, hm?” Dad asks, pulling my supply list from a pocket. He hands it to Mom, who looks at it over a minute before folding it back up. 

“I think robes and cloaks are a good start, what do you think?” 

We agree and head to the Madam Malkin’s, the best shop for getting Hogwarts robes and other essential clothing items.

“Callie, we’ll meet you after you’re done. I just remembered I need to get some more gnome repellent from Wiseacre’s. Will you be okay?” Dad stops me outside the shop, and I assure him I’ll be fine. I open the door and am greeted by a tall, thin witch dressed in steel blue, who ushers me to a podium to take my measurements. 

“Ah, another first year. We’ve been getting your lot all day. I believe there are two others just right over there.” She points to a corner of the shop, where a squat witch in mauve is taking the measurements of a skinny boy with jet-black hair. A second witch in orange is helping a pale-blond boy. They seem to know each other, conversing easily, or maybe the blond just likes talking. I meet the eye of the blond boy and my face reddens, and I wave, not wanting to seem rude. Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone with hair that pale before, and I wonder if he might be part Veela. The dark-haired boy leaves first, meeting a large man outside the shop, who appears to be holding ice creams. The minutes pass in comfortable silence, and I hardly notice any time had passed at all until the witch stepped back.

“Well, you’re done. Anything else you need?” The witch asks, taking a final glance at the pinnings. 

“No, thank you.” I step from the podium and head to the front, taking a last look at the blond boy still being pinned. I pay for the robes and leave the shop, searching for my parents. I see them next to Ollivanders, carrying a small parcel from Wiseacre’s. 

“Robes all taken care of?” Mum asks, linking arms with my father as we step into the wand shop.

“Yep. Time to get my wand?” I answer, taking in the rather shabby shop. There’s a wand on display on a purple cushion in the window, although it looked as if no one had touched it in quite some time. The shop is dark and cramped, and thousands of boxes of wands are stacked as high as the ceiling. The shop gave me the feeling that if you spoke, someone would surely shush you and none too politely at that.

“Hello there,” A soft voice spoke, and an old man with silvery hair appeared from behind a shelf of wands.“Here for your first wand, I imagine? Let’s see. Which is your wand arm?” Mr. Ollivander circled me, although I’m unsure what he was searching for.

“My right I suppose, sir,” I reply, holding my right hand up. 

“Very good,” the wandmaker murmurs, taking several measurements of my arm and body. “Do you know anything about wands?”

“Yes sir, both my parents are wizards.”

“I remember now,” He looks to my parents and his face takes on a far-off look as if remembering something.“Laurelwood, unicorn hair, ten inches, rigid flexibility. Correct?”

“Y-yes, sir.” My father looks taken aback as if not expecting someone to have spoken to him at that moment.

“And yours was alder wood with a dragon heartstring core, nine and a half inches and flexible, was it not?” He asks again, this time to my mother. She confirms his question, and he turns back to me. 

“I never forget a wand I sell. Well, you’ll know all about cores then.” Ollivander then leaves to start pulling wands, and I realize his tape measure is doing its job by itself. Coming back with a dozen boxes, balanced precariously in his thin arms. He set them down on the counter and opened the first box, handing me the wand inside. “Mahogany, dragon heartstring, eleven inches, rigid. Try this.”

I take the wand from him and wave it once, sending the box it came from flying into the dusty front window, nearly hitting my dad. I quickly set it down, and my mother brings the wand box to the counter. 

“Seems not. Perhaps this one- walnut, eight inches, unicorn hair, supple.”

I pick up the second wand and wave it, and the desk light turns blue.

“No, no. Here- English oak wood with phoenix feather core, twelve and a half inches, supple flexibility.”

I take the third wand and wave it, and a feeling of warmth spreads from my hand to my whole body, seemingly radiating from the wand itself. 

“I think this is it, sir,” I say, waving the wand. A trail of green smoke comes from the end, a surefire sign that the wand agrees with me. I place the wand back on the table, and Mr. Ollivander neatly wraps it back into its box.

“Marvelous! Absolutely superb. I believe this wand will do many great things.” 

We pay for the wand and step back into the bustling street, full of children and their families. Mom balances the various parcels we’ve collected and pulled the supply list out, mentally checking off what we’ve already picked up.

“Seems all that’s left are your books, supplies, and a pet. What sort would you like? It seems the options are an owl, cat, or toad.” 

I pull a face on the idea of a toad, prompting a laugh from both my parents. “I guess no toad then. Well, we can stop at the emporium as our last stop, that way we won’t drag the poor animal all across Diagon Alley.” 

We make quick work of the textbooks and supplies, and by the end, everyone is carrying at least a single parcel. I begin wondering how we’ll get this all back home, especially after I pick an animal to bring with me.

“Any ideas on animals, Callie? Owls are always incredibly useful, but you may like a cat more.” 

“I think I want a cat.” I decide, and we head to the Magical Menagerie, one of the available pet shops. We step inside and are quickly accosted by the mix of smells and sounds. The walls are lined with cages, each holding a different animal. I don’t even recognize some of the creatures and don’t like how some of the rats are looking at me. I cross to the various cages holding cats and begin looking. Mom comes behind me and points at a sleek white cat.

“What about this one Pumpkin? She looks sweet.”

The cat, almost as an answer, immediately raises her hackles and hisses. We both take a step back as the shop owner comes over.

“Looking for a first-year companion? Won’t get much luck with that one- mean as a Hungarian Horntail, she is. Can’t seem to find anyone she likes.” 

“Maybe she just hates being cooped up all day with all this noise,” I reply, stepping in front of another cage, giving the white cat a remorseful look. This one contains a small puffball of a kitten curled into a ball, fast asleep. She lifts her head, her big green eyes staring at me sleepily. She yawns, readjusts, and goes back to sleep. “Mom, what about this one?” She looks at the kitten, with its too-big ears and pitch-dark fur and nods. 

“We’ll get whatever you like,” She replies, turning to the shopkeeper. “What about this kitten?”

“Excellent choice! We think she might be part-kneazle, not sure, though. She’s nine galleons either way.” 

“We’ll take her.”

The shopkeeper unlocks the cage and gently removes the kitten. She whines in protest but otherwise remains calm. 

“Would you like to hold her?” He asks me and places her in my arms when I nod. She gives another big yawn and snuggles her nose into the crook of my elbow, and I instantly fall in love. 

“This is the one I want,” Holding her close, I turn to my mother. “Where’d Dad go?”

“Oh, who knows. Probably looking at the Fire Crabs again. I keep seeing him sneaking books into the library about how to care for them.” She chuckles, and I imagine Dad trying to sneak a whole Fire Crab into the back garden without us noticing. That would probably take care of the gnome problem. 

Sure enough, we find him near the front, standing in front of a cage containing a small Fire Crab.

“What do you think, Cressida? It might take care of the gnome problem in the garden.” He smiles, trying to coax a similar smile from my mother.

“Weylan we’ve talked about it. Plus, look at what Callie picked out- a Fire Crab might flame broil it on accident.”

“Well I wouldn’t want that, he replies, tickling the ear of the kitten. She swats his hand lazily, and he chuckles. “What do you think you’ll name her?”

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe Dorcha.” 

We buy any other necessary cat-care items and leave the shop. Mom checks the list once more, making sure there’s nothing else we need. She looks at all the parcels we have and pulls us to the side of the street, under a shop sign advertising second-hand cauldrons 10% off. 

“Weylan, hand me the bag, please.” 

He produces a small handbag from his robe I hadn’t noticed before. She begins placing all the parcels into it, the extension charm placed on the bag allowing it to hold everything we’ve bought. Satisfied at the sudden lightening of the load, she stands up and ushers us back to the Leaky Cauldron. 

“Come on, we should get there before the pub becomes too busy.” She urges, and we quickly head the way we came. The pub only has a few patrons, staying near the front, and the fireplace is otherwise unoccupied. I go first again, carefully tucking Dorcha into my robes. I arrive in the living room, and Dorcha is still asleep, unfazed by the daunting trip she just went on. I step out and shake some soot from my hair, Mom and Dad coming out moments later. 

"Well, Callie, why don’t you take your things and get them ready to pack for school? Also, get Dorcha acquainted with the house, make her feel comfortable.” Mom hands me the bag, and I head upstairs to my room. I open the door, juggling Dorcha and the bag full of parcels in one arm. I set Dorcha on my bed and she snuggles into the plush fabric. I begin pulling the parcels out of the bag and placing them on my desk. 

“Well Dorcha, I guess we’re set for Hogwarts,” I say to the cat, for some reason almost expecting an answer. Instead, all I get is another yawn, and otherwise no acknowledgment she had heard me. I begin unwrapping the parcels, beginning the long process of packing my trunk from school.

  
  
  


  
  



End file.
